


Disclosure

by inqwex



Category: Station 19 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 17:04:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16727424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inqwex/pseuds/inqwex
Summary: Hughes and Ripley have been together for months now. It's fine, fun, and casual, until it isn't and Hughes messes up.





	Disclosure

**Author's Note:**

> This is my little dream of what could happen - it's far too straightforward for this show but hey we can dream. Rating of T for language.

‘In retrospect, it was always going to be me doing or saying something without thinking that sent the whole house of cards tumbling around us,’ Vic would later journal. ‘After all, he was the quiet one. The sensible one.’

* * *

 

It was an apartment building fire in a modest four story block. Multiple crews had been called in, and they’d evacuated everyone safely (Montgomery was going to make it into the papers – it looked like a reporter had snapped a cute photo of him with a very unhappy cat being reunited with its elderly owner). The fire had been brought under control, and they were really just surveying for overhaul.

Vic was on side B, level two, when it happened. She was surveying for residual pockets of fire with Gibson, who was busy bitching about how Montgomery was going to steal all the glory for rescuing a cat when the reporters had missed Vic and Gibson pulling out three civilians in three separate runs.

“Don’t be so jealous,” Vic was in the middle of retorting when the building began to shake and a loud crashing sound echoed from further up the hallway.

“Mayday,” the radio crackled, distorting Sullivan’s voice. “Entry way, side Alpha, level one and basement. The hallway collapsed under Chief Ripley and myself. I have landed in the basement; I suspect my foot is broken.”

“Mayday,” Lucas’ voice came through in the next second, Vic momentarily frozen in relief, as Gibson turned to look at her sharply. “All units exit the building via your nearest exit away from alpha side; repeat, evacuate the building. It’s obviously unstable. We’ll need a RIT to the entrance hall on level one on the Alpha side. Sullivan’s under some debris and will need extraction. My shoulder is dislocated. Beware of the big hole in the floor.”

In the next moment there was a strangled yell, and then a thud. “Ripley’s down, he fell from the entrance way; he’d just managed to grab the floor…”

Sullivan’s voice was drowned out by the sudden thumping in Vic’s ears.

“Hughes!” Gibson barked, but Vic had already pushed past him down the corridor on level two, heading away from their pre-arranged side towards A side. “Hughes!”

Vic ignored him, chest tight with an emotion that she’d spent the better part of the last six months increasingly desperately trying to pretend didn’t exist. It would’ve been much easier to have had it be a one and done. But no, he had called her, and then they’d had coffee, and then they’d had more sex, and then they'd flirted, and then they'd had sex once at work, and then last week she’d finally bought herself a hairbrush for his place. (The comb he used hadn’t really worked for her hair).

And now she was running towards the unstable section of the building with Gibson thundering behind her yelling at her to stop. She spun down around the fire-escape and out the door on the ground level, almost knocking down a station 23 firefighter who was clearly part of the RIT.

“What the fuck?” his surname read Smith.

“Here to help,” she replied breathlessly, walking straight to the area of splintered board that was about five metres from the entrance. It looked like an entire section of floor had collapsed, and she squinted into the basement.

Smith from 23 grabbed her elbow and pulled her back, shining his flashlight into the hole.

“Sirs?” he called down.

“Here,” the flashlight followed the voice, and Vic felt her knees grow weak with relief as it shone on Ripley’s dust covered face from where he knelt beside Sullivan.

He caught her eyes and his face tightened. “Station 19 get out of here,” he barked.

“Yes, sir,” Gibson’s voice sounded from just over Vic’s shoulder, and this time she offered no resistance as he gripped her shoulder and pulled her back outside. The bright light momentarily hurt her eyes and she shaded her face automatically as Gibson towed her to their engine.

“You idiot,” he hissed. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Vic’s eyes slid from his, knowing she had no answer to give. She hadn’t thought. She’d just reacted. She could distantly hear Gibson berating her, but her eyes found the entranceway to the apartment building again. Other crews spilled from around the sides of the building, having evacuated out of other entrances away from the collapsed section at the front. It felt like a lifetime before she saw him emerge, covered in dust, left hand clasping his right elbow to support it as his right shoulder fell forward. She watched him pause, see them, and head deliberately straight for them, waving off Smith from 23.

Vic didn’t wait for him to speak.

“Gibson followed me,” she blurted out, determined to get Gibson out of this mess. “It wasn’t him.”

“What the _hell_ were you thinking?!”

The familiar clamour of a firefighting scene suddenly fell quiet, and Vic shifted uncomfortably, eyes fixed on her boots. She’d never heard him yell like that, properly yell like that, and she’d have bet even money that no-one else staring at their group of three had either. He was normally so composed, so calm. She took a deep breath and looked up, noting the tightness in his face and…oh god was that fear in his eyes? It was. They were screwed.

“You know Station 19, sir,” Gibson spoke up from beside her, as if he hadn’t just said exactly the same thing moments earlier. “We’re a tight knit crew. We heard the Captain’s Mayday, and figured we might be closer.” Gibson’s voice sounded loud in the hush that had fallen over the yard.

For the first time Lucas’ gaze moved from her face and he looked at Gibson intently for several long moments before looking back at her.

“Help me reduce this shoulder will you?” he said with a sigh, posture softening somewhat.

“You should go to the ER –”

“Victoria.”

So she took a step forward, right into his personal space, and grasped his right forearm with her right hand, resting her left hand on his shoulder blade.

“He knows,” Lucas said more than asked in a low voice.

“Months now,” Gibson replied. Both of them paused, and looked at him. Gibson’s eyebrows jerked upwards at the combined gaze. “Y’know, I’m gonna, go, um, check, the um…I’ll just stand over here.”

“He handed me my phone the … well, the day after. Saw your name,” Vic slowly started to rotate his elbow outwards.

“Victoria, what were you _thinking_ …?” his sentence ended in a groan as his muscles spasmed, agony flaring through his shoulder. “Pause, pause.”

She did as he asked, absently massaging his shoulder with her left hand.

“I heard you were hurt,” she hated how small she sounded. “I heard you fall.”

And if she closed her eyes now, her mind conjured up images of him losing his grip on the edge of the floor, falling and landing in a still heap on a dusty basement floor.

“Now you know how I feel every day,” his voice was very soft, and she looked up from where she’d focussed on his elbow. She started to continue rotating his arm outwards.

“This is a problem, isn’t it?” she asked unhappily, letting herself get lost in his ice blue eyes which were gazing steadily – always so steadily – back at her.

“Yea-aargh,” he let out a strangled yelp as his shoulder _clunked_ , and Vic felt people turn to stare again. “Fuck, that hurt.”

“It feels back in,” she said, prodding at his shoulder.

“Ow, don’t,” he flinched back. “It’s in.”

Wordlessly, Gibson held an unrolled sling out to her. She slipped it under his arm, and over his shoulder.

“When it was just me, I thought it was okay,” he said quietly.

“I don’t think that it was ever just you. I just didn’t know – didn’t want to know – for sure until then,” she said equally quietly, mindful of Jack buzzing around nearby.

“Chief!”

Vic finished tying the knot of the sling around his shoulder as he glanced behind to see who had called.

“We need to make a decision, we need to talk after this,” Lucas stepped back, and Vic’s heart hurt to see his whole posture shift, his voice losing its special soft quality as he became Chief Ripley again. “Consider yourselves both dressed down.”

And she watched him stride away without a second glance.

“I’m sorry,” she said, unable to look at Jack properly, hating that she felt like she was going to cry.

“You’re an idiot,” Jack said bluntly. “Falling in-”

“Shut up,” anger flared in her, and Vic embraced it. She’d rather be angry than sad. “I know I'm an idiot, okay, just shut up.”

There was a moment of awkward silence.

 “C’mon,” he said, almost kindly. “Let’s get moving.” 

* * *

 

“What the hell were you thinking?” Andy’s voice echoed through the station.

“Look, we figured we were closer to Sullivan and the Chief. You know 23 drags their feet on RITs.” Vic owed Gibson, as he came out with that line again. She shut the door, not making eye contact with anyone.

“Well that was dumb,” Maya was never one to mince words.

“Yeah, yeah, we got the lecture from Ripley,” Vic said sullenly.

“Heh, yeah, we heard,” Dean said.

“Hard not to,” Travis added. “I’ve never heard him lose it like that though.”

“Controlled it quickly, though,” Warren remarked. “Probably more angry than he meant to be because of the shoulder. Nice reduction, Hughes, by the way.”

“Any word on Sullivan?” fuck she owed Gibson, as he manoeuvred the topic away from Ripley as the team headed to the locker rooms.

“Broken foot,” Ben replied.

Vic let the babble of conversation wash over her as she mechanically stowed her gear, then trailed the team back for clean up. She was picking idly at a late lunch when she noticed the babble disappear. She looked up to the entrance to see him standing there, a proper shoulder immobilising sling there in place of the rough triage one she’d put on hours earlier. He’d obviously washed his face, but there was still spots of ash on his neck and white shirt, and through his hair. His face was inscrutable.

“How’s the shoulder, Chief?” asked Dean heartily.

“Fine, thanks.” Vic felt irrationally angry at how calm he sounded, when her own stomach was roiling.

“Gibson, with me. Hughes, you’re next,” Ripley said, turning without waiting to see if Jack would follow. Vic glanced at Gibson and opened her mouth to say something before closing it.

“Time for the music,” he clapped her on the shoulder as he scooted behind her.

“It won’t be so bad,” Travis said reassuringly to Vic as Gibson disappeared from sight.

“They did directly break protocol –” Maya began, before letting out a startled yelp as Dean gestured for her to stay silent.

* * *

 

Ripley hovered behind Sullivan’s desk, waiting for Gibson to shut the door. He nodded the younger man to the chair, before sitting himself. There was a strained moment of silence. Lucas licked his lips, unused to feeling so uncomfortable.

“We owe you an unreserved apology,” he said. “For putting you in this position. It’s unfair to you.”

Jack looked taken aback, obviously surprised that that was where Ripley wanted to start.

“It’s been out of the workplace,” Jack said slowly. “None of my business.”

“None.”

“It’s consensual, right?” the words seemed to erupt from Jack, and Lucas had to admire the way Gibson’s eyes pinned his.

“I don’t want to say she started it, I know how it sounds,” Lucas replied awkwardly, “but…she did.”

It had been Vic who had flirted first. It had been Vic who had pressed her mouth to his and then pulled him, laughing, up with her. Although, if Lucas was honest with himself, he’d been so taken with the young firefighter that he hadn’t put up much of a fight. Not enough of a fight, given his position of authority. Gibson nodded slowly indicating his acceptance, green-blue eyes still pinning his own.

“Am I right that it had nothing to do with Sullivan and everything to do with … us?” Ripley hated how the question fell, hearing the undercurrent of insecurity.

It was just...Victoria Hughes was like the sun; bright, vivacious, so beautiful, and funny, and adorable and he was old and -

“I tried to pull her back,” Gibson answered. “But I wasn’t gonna let her go alone.”

“Thank you,” emotion slipped through that he didn't intend, and Lucas could see made Gibson uncomfortable.

“I just…I don’t want to be involved,” Gibson waved his hands. “Sir.”

Ripley nodded. “Send her in on your way out.We'll work it out.”

* * *

On the way down to Sullivan’s office, Vic mentally rehearsed what she was going to say. She closed the door behind her.

“I don’t want to lose you,” she said, as she sat down.

Okay, not what she had rehearsed at all.

A mix of emotions flooded across his face and she glanced down to see his knuckles white over his pen.

“Victoria, I… we have two options here,” he said, tone so soft and gentle. “We can’t keep this the way it is now…my judgement’s been compromised for months, your judgement…”

“What’s Plan B?” she interrupted.

He blinked.

“Plan B. I can’t…Lucas I _know_ what the risk was, running towards the unsteady part of the structure. I  _had_ to."

“You could’ve died,” he said desperately. "If the building collapsed-"

“But without you I –” her throat closed over. They sat staring at each other for a long moment.

“Plan B?”

“It’s, um,” he tapped the pen on the desk. “HR.”

“Open disclosure? But what about your position -?”

“It’ll mean a week of interviews,” he interrupted. “Possibly more. They can order the relationship to stop. You could be suspended. As for me – I could lose my job but I knew that was possible from the start. But if you want, you can walk away. I’ll say I’ve given you and Gibson an unofficial warning. That’ll be the end of it. I wouldn’t blame you and there would be no hard feelings.”

“Lucas, I want you,” Victoria would marvel later at how sure she felt and sounded in that moment. Suddenly, a thought struck her. “Unless you don’t –”

“NO!” he said vehemently. "I do, I do."

“Interviews it is,” she shrugged.

“When this happens you can’t make contact with me,” he warned. “They don’t want me to be influencing you in any way. You have to be completely honest about every aspect of our relationship – I will be…except, let’s not mention the storm.”

“You mean having sex in-”

“Yes, Vic,” he said with an exasperated sigh that was belied by his soft smile. “Let’s leave that out.”

“Okay,” she smiled at him, feeling a warm glow in her chest slowly diffuse and replace the heavy ache that had been there as he smiled back at her.

“Are you sure?” he checked. “You can think about it-”

“The longer we wait the worse it looks to HR,” she said decisively.

Lucas’ gaze dropped to her mouth for a long moment. “Okay. Tell Gibson he needs to tell the whole truth.”

“They’ll interview Jack?” she asked, surprised.

“And everyone else who knew. Or could've known.”

“Nobody else knows,” she assured him. “Make the call.”

“Okay.”

* * *

 "Did you know that Victoria Hughes and Lucas Ripley were involved?!” Bishop exploded into the kitchen.

Vic gritted her teeth. “Not now, Maya-”

“Yes, now, I just got grilled for thirty minutes on this – what happened?”

“No, I mean, let’s wait for the others,” she said. “I only want to do this once.”

She’d been dreading this for days, the inevitable time when she had to talk to the crew. She hadn’t spoken to Lucas since telling him to speak to HR, three days ago. He had been interviewed for a day, (as had Sullivan, in hospital, from what HR had said) and then, she and Gibson had spent most of yesterday with HR. And Frankel, who’d dropped in for the last hour of her report.

[She’d bought Gibson a nice bottle to apologise].

She clutched her coffee like a lifeline as the rest of the crew spilled in fairly rapidly after each other – having nothing to say to HR meant they’d only been interviewed for a short time. Unlike Gibson, who was still sulking after spending two hours justifying not reporting their relationship.

“Okay, so I’m sorry about these interviews,” she said to the table when they’d all sat down and mostly quietened down. “And this…has been going for six months.”

“You could’ve reported it sooner,” Travis said gently, resting his hand on her arm. She looked up in surprise.

“No! It’s not like that,” she said, confused.

The crew glanced at each other.

“This is for permission,” Jack clarified.

The table exploded into noise again.

“Wait, what?” Travis demanded.

“You knew?” Dean and Andy turned to Jack.

Vic could feel her headache worsen.

“Guys, please,” she barked, sounding so unlike herself she was taken aback. “Please. It’s…we’ll wait for HR to tell us. But he’s not – he hasn’t coerced me, I am not looking for a promotion, he’s just…he’s just a really nice…and I um…he...it's...I...”

“Have been struck by the inability to finish a sentence,” said Warren kindly. “It’s okay, Vic, it’s your personal life.”

“At work,” Jack muttered sourly.

For all that he was a rookie, a raised eyebrow from Ben Warren spoke volumes.

“You haven’t made it our business before HR,” Warren continued. “So I don’t see why it’s ours now. Let’s go…clean the engines.”

It took a few moments of grumbling but chairs were eventually pushed back.

 _Thank you_ , Vic mouthed. Ben simply smiled and squeezed her arm.

“C’mon,” he urged.

* * *

"Hughes!” Sullivan barked a summons, and the dining room went quiet.

Vic turned around and got up from her chair…and spotted Lucas standing next to the Captain at the entrance. They stared at each other for what felt like forever, but was probably only a few moments. She hadn’t seen him for five days, hadn’t talked to him for the same time. He was in jeans, though, and one of his flannel shirts – easier for the sling, she suspected. Her heart sank a little but the grin on his face indicated that maybe his informal state didn’t mean catastrophe.

“HR report,” Sullivan grunted, nodding at Lucas before using his crutches to get to the kitchen and start the coffee machine back up.

Lucas lifted up a plain manila packet, clearly uncomfortable with the silent stares being directed at him. Vic could feel their eyes on her back, but she ignored it and hurried forward, snatching the envelope from his hand and tearing it open.

“You’ve been reprimanded!” she said, more loudly than she meant as she scanned the first few lines.

“What, this you read from the top instead of skipping to the end?” he teased gently.

“Shush, it’s important,” Vic held up a finger as she continued. “Wait, you’ve been suspended!”

She met his eyes as she looked up from the paper as a collective gasp sounded from behind her. Bizarrely, his grin grew wider and he waved a hand dismissively.

“A week on full pay. It’s for PR. Keep reading.”

“I’ve been reprimanded.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It takes two…” Vic let her voice trail off, feeling her cheeks pink and watching his redden as well.

Yeah.

Maybe not great to mention the fact that she’d had sex with the boss’ boss’ boss in front of the entire crew and the Captain. She continued to read, feeling awkwardly caught between Lucas’ warm gaze in front and her colleagues’ stares from behind.

She finally reached, read, and reread the end. Vic looked up at him. He nodded in confirmation, so she leaned up on the balls of her feet and pulling his mouth to hers. She barely registered the jeers and whistles from her childish crew-mates as Lucas’ one available hand slid along her jaw, deepening the kiss.

Vic pulled away after a few long moments, and buried her face in his chest. He wrapped his good arm around her waist, pulling her close and brushing her temple with his lips. She took a deep breath, reveling in the feel of him around her.

She'd really missed him over the last five days.

“Ahem,” Sullivan’s cleared throat had Lucas stepping back from the embrace, reddening again.

Vic didn’t care (okay, a little but mostly not).

“I have authority to proceed,” she said archly, turning and pointing to the very dry report on the kitchen bench. “So here I am. Proceeding.”

“With discretion,” Sullivan said firmly, tone softening with amusement as he glanced to Lucas, “so get off my base, Ripley.”

“I finish at 1900,” Vic blurted, turning back to Lucas.

“I know,” damn him for sounding amused as he leant down to brush her mouth with his gently once more. “I’ll see you then.”

He got no more than two steps before Vic realised she hadn’t actually said it.

“Lucas,” he paused, glancing back. “I love you.”

His eyes darkened, and he took the two steps back and kissed her again, firmly.

“With good reason, I’m pretty lovable,” he teased, voice deep and soft.

“You jerk.”

“I love you, Victoria. Stay safe.” He kissed her again, and left.

Vic was too busy trying to not melt in a puddle from the look in his eyes to take much heed of the whistles, and claps, and jeers behind her. She glanced back at the precious piece of paper and then at Sullivan.

“How bad is it, really?” she asked, worried Ripley had kept something back. “A week of suspension, a reprimand?”

The captain took a sip of his coffee, balancing expertly on the one crutch.

“It’s a slap on the wrist,” he said, hesitating slightly before continuing. “It would’ve been worse, but he’s not your direct superior and so doesn’t directly have anything to do with you. More importantly, he has an excellent reputation. He’s a stickler for protocol, and passionate about making things better, and safer. Lucas is an honourable man, and he’s been my friend for fifteen years.”

The warning wasn’t particularly subtle.

“I know I come across as flaky,” Vic said firmly. “But not about this – not about him.”

“Good,” Sullivan hesitated again. “Your career will be the one worse off, to be honest. You’ll have to prove you’re outstanding beyond any other candidate so that there’s no hint of favouritism. In emergencies where he’s the Chief, while I’ll be in direct charge of you I won’t be putting you in the building unless I have to because he needs to be objective.”

It hurt a little but it was a small price to pay. “I understand.”

“Good.”

She grabbed the report – she was definitely going to frame the page that had their reprimands and his suspension – and walked back to the table.

“Now _that’s_ swagger,” Miller teased.

Vic blushed again. Damnit, this was going to happen a lot.

“That’s true looooove,” Warren joined in, simply grinning as she tried to glare at him.

“I expect you all to be over this by the time you finish breakfast,” Sullivan interrupted. “You’re firefighters, not schoolgirls.” Draining his coffee, he turned, crutches clicking on the floor.

“So, with discretion and that’s it?” Andy asked.

“No,” Vic replied with a grimace. “Frankel is effectively my chief – Lu-Ripley is out of my chain of command except in emergencies.”

“Frankel,” Andy groaned. “You’ll have to work four times as hard with her.”

As the conversation drifted, Vic looked down again at the piece of paper. Yep, she’d frame it and put it up in their room. As a souvenir. 


End file.
